


The Storm Dance

by amyfortuna



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dancing, F/F, Harping, Ribbon Dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4941394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lírien plays the harp while Arwen dances in the Hall of Fire; then Lírien plays and Arwen dances another kind of dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/gifts).



> With <3 for Elleth. I wrote this porn so fast for you. :)

"Play something for me," Arwen said, eyes lighting up when Lírien sat down at the large harp in the corner of the Hall of Fire. It was midmorning, and no one was in the Hall save the two of them, and they had an idle few hours on their hands. Arwen was carrying ribbons in all the hues of the rainbow along with her sewing basket, for she would be working on new dresses with her mother later that day. Lírien's hands were empty, but there had been a spring in her step all the morning, and Arwen knew her well enough by this time to know: there was a new song ringing its way through her, and it would not leave her alone until it had been played. 

"If I play, will you dance?" Lírien asked, tucking her skirts away to get in the proper position for harp-playing. 

Arwen bent to her sewing basket and took out a few of the lengths of ribbon, holding them up for Lírien's approval. "With these." She slipped off her shoes and stood in the middle of the Hall, head bowed a little, dark hair flowing down over her white dress, waiting for the music to begin.

Lírien began to play, and it seemed as though a babbling brook filled the Hall, laughing merrily. Arwen raised her head and her arms, ribbons in each hand, and rising to the balls of her feet, twirled gracefully, then smoothly glided down the Hall, ribbons fluttering in the same rhythm as the flowing music of the harp. 

The stream became a rushing river of sound, the Loudwater singing out as it poured down into the rocky valley of Imladris. The ribbons in Arwen's hands were a blur of colourful motion, and her feet struck the wooden boards in time as she leapt into the air and landed with utter grace, knees slightly bent, posed perfectly before seeming to take flight again. There was no corner of the Hall she did not visit with her dance, and her dark hair flowed out behind her in waves, wrapping around her when she spun, sometimes getting into her mouth as she laughed and panted her way through the dance. 

She was a rainbow incarnate, the shadow and the light as it struck the water. Lírien played on, singing the Brunien down to the wider lands of the West, where it joined other rivers, and then to the Sea. And the rolling and the rushing of the waves could be heard in her harp, and Arwen became Osse, Maia of the storm. Lightning seemed to strike within the dark clouds of her hair, and the white clouds of her garments raced hither and yon. Above all else there was the rainbow, a storm of light moving even within the darkest clouds. 

In the midst of the storm, one ship was sailing, and on that ship there was an Elf, sad eyes looking far into the West for one faint glance. Arwen was still for the moment, eyes shaded with her hand, looking far away to something she could not quite see. A wave rose, and she seemed to rise with it, looking, looking into the West. Light dawned on her face for one glorious instant - and then the harp played the crashing of the wave, and she crumpled, sinking down into the depths. Even there the music played on, and she swam with fishes, for a moment waved a tail like theirs. 

One final crescendo rose - Ulmo lifting Voronwë from the deeps - and Arwen rose with it, extending her whole body upwards toward the light, the ribbons in her hands tangles of seaweed. And tiny wave after wave after wave swept her in, swept her down, until she was lying on the beach, seaweed covering her mouth, eyes closed, almost as one dead. 

The harp struck a final note, and Arwen opened her eyes. 

Lírien was laughing, clapping her hands, and Arwen sat up, smiling brightly, then stood and rushed over to where Lírien sat. "How marvellous!" she exclaimed. "You will have us all spellbound when you play that for everyone!" She bent, breathless, and kissed Lírien's mouth, feeling like her blood was on fire from the dance and the music. 

Lírien gasped with slight surprise at the kiss, and then rose up to embrace Arwen. They exchanged kisses for some little while, not speaking, and at last Arwen drew back with a final kiss. 

"Will you come with me to my rooms?" she said, taking Lírien's hand and making very clear what she meant, by bringing their clasped hands to her breasts. 

"I will," Lírien said, giving Arwen a mischievous look and raising her free hand up to Arwen's breasts as well, brushing one finger lightly over Arwen's hardened nipples. Arwen took a deep breath. 

"Now," she said urgently. Her sewing basket and the ribbons lay abandoned near the harp as they rushed out of the Hall. 

\----

Arwen's bedroom was empty, and the sun was shining in through the open windows. Hastily, Arwen drew the curtains, casting the room into shadow, and then drew Lírien to her, unfastening the buttons of her dress as quickly as possible. "Must you wear such complicated clothing?" she said, laughing, struggling with a button. "You will see that I dressed for the occasion." As Lírien's last button escaped its hold, and she stripped herself of the garments she wore beneath, Arwen pulled her own dress off over her head, and threw it on a chair, then swiftly removed her undergarments and tugged Lírien into bed with her. 

Lírien landed between her legs with a faintly surprised sound, and immediately bent to ravish Arwen's mouth, kissing her hard, pressing her thigh between Arwen's legs, where Arwen was already hot and wet for her. Arwen made a desperate, urgent noise, and Lírien could not help but want to satisfy it. 

There was no time for slow or gentle, this was hard and fast and oh so delicious. Lírien moved just far enough that she could press her fingers into Arwen's slick heat, slide them down, press them in and out of her once, twice, and then slide up again to circle her clit with one warm finger. 

"Please, that's not enough, I need your mouth!" Arwen exclaimed, and gave her a laughing look. "That sweet tongue should have more use than just to sing. I'd have you play the instrument of me. What sounds will you cause me to make?" 

Lírien grinned, and slid down, her whole face pressing into the dark curls between Arwen's legs. Her tongue made contact with Arwen's clit, and Arwen made a high, desperate sound, immediately dragging her hands into Lírien's hair. "More, more," she said urgently, and Lírien complied, drawing shapes and patterns, licking warmly, sometimes with a soft tongue, sometimes pointed and precise, until Arwen was arching up against her, moaning sweetly, hips rising off the bed in an urgent thrusting dance, hands tangled in Lírien's hair. 

Arwen came with a long low cry, so hard her whole body was shaking with it. Lírien gentled her down, licking softly at her until she was no longer trembling, and then raised her head, mouth and chin wet with Arwen's juices. Arwen was smiling brightly. 

"Come here," she said, beckoning with her finger. Lírien lay down next to her, and Arwen licked her face, laughing. 

"Now then," Arwen said, sliding a hand down between their bodies. "You've seen me dance, twice now, and it's my turn to play."


End file.
